


Rita Hayworth

by titlewave



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/F, also there's talk of cats, and probably too many italicized words, they're just bein gay and watchin movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:01:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7959868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titlewave/pseuds/titlewave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erin and Holtzmann watch The Shawshank Redemption together and emotions begin to fly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rita Hayworth

**Author's Note:**

> So I tried not to write any major spoilers to the movie, ya know, just in case. but idk, if you don't like little spoilers and haven't seen the movie then...exit out? lol 
> 
> Also, the title is in reference to the book Rita Hayworth and The Shawshank Redemption. Never read it, only seen the movie, but I assume it's good. 
> 
> anyway!

_“...I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope…,”_

 

Holtzmann stares at the TV, a prominent lump in her throat, her mouth agape. The ending scene fades and she momentarily feels a concerning sense of emptiness in her chest. She then feels Erin shift against her, reeling her back into reality.

 

She's never been _good_ at watching movies. Sitting still for an hour or two while focusing on one specific thing isn't a pastime she gladly indulges in. Except tonight, or whenever Erin wants to watch a movie because she doesn't mind watching a film with Erin. She supposes it's because she's spending time with her which _is_ a pastime she will gladly indulge.

 

Erin usually picks out a romantic-comedy like _You’ve Got Mail_ or a movie-musical like _Grease_ and Holtzmann barely pays attention to the story, focusing rather on Erin’s (normal in the sense that it's _her_ _)_  ragged breathing or the way she is always doing something trivial with her hands (as in clasping and unclasping them or quickly tapping her fingers on her knee). Tonight, however, when Erin suggests that they watch _The Shawshank Redemption_ with eager eyes and a nervous smile, Holtz can't deny her. She has heard wonderful things about the film, after all, and once they begin watching and she notices that Erin is thoroughly enthralled by the movie, Holtz decides she’ll pay attention to this one. She's pleased that she does because it's mind blowingly poignant. Her mind... _blown_ because of poignancy.

 

The firehouse’s makeshift living room is dimly lit by the glow of the TV and the lucent stream of light that has decided to peek through the windows. General time of day is known, but the exact time is uncertain. The movie is _long_. Holtz is surprised that she successfully sits through it without a bathroom break.

 

Holtzmann notices that the string of music accompanying the ending credits sounds oddly familiar but not familiar enough to name. She will search for the music later. Right now, she isn't interested in moving. Or knowing the time. They are entirely too comfortable slouched against the couch (Holtz more so than Erin, who is actually positioned rather stiffly as she sits cross legged) with Holtz leaning her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder. She can't recall a shoulder being as comfortable as Gilbert’s.

 

They're warmer than need be, but it is the end of August and Erin _is_ an interestingly comfy pillow. All the more reason not to move. Her mind buzzing, she is about to comment on the movie when she hears Erin sniffle. Holtz dips her head and huffs, because she can't stop thinking about this _insane_ film...and then she notices the furrow of her girlfriend's eyebrows. Titling her head, her eyes working to exam her features in the weak lighting, she realizes that Erin is crying.

 

 _Not good._ The lump in her throat ever present, because Erin _doesn't cry, not usually_ (the only time Holtzmann has ever witnessed Erin cry was when she dropped toast, butter side down, and Erin swears that that was a moment of weakness that isn't to be spoken of).

 

Holtz nudges Erin, gently, tentatively, so as not to startle her. They have been occupying a warm silence for nearly two hours and Erin _does_ scare easily.

 

“Hey,” she whispers, because if she speaks properly the bubble they are sitting in will surely pop, “what’s going on?”

 

“Oh,” Erin says, her voice notably strained. The aforementioned bubble may have popped. She quickly rubs her cheeks, avoiding Holtz’ searching eyes. “Nothing, nothing.”

 

“Did you not like the movie?” Holtz wonders, confused because Erin picked out the film and now she’s upset. They make a point of doing this kind of thing at least once a week: watching a movie, or some random TV show, reading a book or magazine together. Their schedules equally crammed and their minds constantly distracted, they have decided that making time for one another is a priority they wholeheartedly agree on. And it's great! Except now Erin is unhappy. And that makes Holtz unhappy. Because Erin should be happy at all times (ideally, not reasonably).

 

“Allergies,” Erin murmurs, the pads of her fingers wiping underneath her eyes. Her claim isn't true, but Holtz is aware that Erin isn't keen on crying in front of people, so she decides to humor her girlfriend and see where acquiescing takes them.

 

“Is it the cat?” Holtzmann asks in an inquiry-like whisper.

 

Erin's head turns so quickly, _immediately_ , towards Holtzmann that she feels a twitch of guilt.

 

“ _What?"_

 

Once the ball is rolling there's no such halting, though, and Holtzmann can't help herself.

 

“The cat. Couch Potato? Believe it or not, that was already his name. He ha—”

 

“ _Couch Potato_?! First of all, awful name. Second of all, _Holtz_! No one agreed to a cat! Where is it? Where is it hiding?”

 

Erin is up, flicking lights on, and frantically searching before Holtzmann can utter an “I’m kidding” or a “he’s not real” even though an orange cat named Couch Potato could very well be alive and well. And vice versa.

 

“I know it’s here!” Erin states, peeking under tables and rushing to open cabinets. A copious amount of cabinets. That’s the thing about the firehouse: being built for dozens of people it accommodates dozens of items. They could fit enough Tupperware in those cupboards to conserve months worth of dry, salvageable food and Holtz is certain that Erin owns enough Tupperware to do so.

 

Holtz watches Erin with pleasure, guilt still slightly present, as she opens cabinet after cabinet, humor ultimately taking over the situation. How did Erin believe her that easily?

 

“I’m allergic!”

 

 _Oh_.

  
“Really?” Holtzmann asks, standing up. She briskly walks over to Erin, who is beginning to take the kitchenware out of the cupboards. Because the (unbeknownst to Erin) fictional cat Couch Potato is going to be found in a cabinet, apparently. She leans an elbow on the counter and looks at Erin, who has a frying pan in her left hand and a strawberry slicer in her right.

 

“I thought Abby was the one who's allergic to cats, Erin?”

 

“More than one person can be allergic to cats, Holtzmann!”

 

“Are _you_ , though?”

 

“No,” Erin murmurs, “but Abby _is_!”

 

“O-kay,” Holtzmann says, taking the pan out of Erin’s grip and setting it back into it’s rightful spot. Who knows what could go wrong there. She can keep the slicer.

 

“There's no cat. I was kidding, making a joke, ha-ha, you know? But apparently you aren't a fan tonight. I can't lie, I am a bit hurt—"

 

Erin's facial features visibly relax as her shoulders drop. She sets the strawberry slicer down.

 

“There's no cat?”

 

“Well,” Holtzmann shrugs, “there could be.”

 

Erin gives her a pointed look.

 

“Maybe tomorrow we can forgo ghost hunting and begin cat hunting?”

 

Erin squints.

 

“That didn't sound right. But—you know what I mean.”

 

Holtz then swings her right arm around and up to her chest, positioned as if she's about to recite the pledge of allegiance, points two fingers in the direction of the couch, and nods her head suggestively.

 

Erin follows.

 

They sit back down on the couch, Holtz sprawling across Erin’s cross legged lap.

 

“Now!” Holtzmann says, her arms resting above her head. She looks up at her girlfriend with a full smile. “That was an indescribable movie, Gilbert. Top notch cinema. You have any other movies up your sleeve that are that insightful?”

 

Erin giggles, and warmth fills the specific spot below Holtz’ ribcage. She contentedly waits for her girlfriend to answer. Heat begins to envelope her, trickling through her arms and up her neck. She ignores the spike in body temperature the best she can. Erin’s hands are folded, methodically placed on Holtz’ stomach. As if Erin has decided that _this spot_ is where her hands should be.

 

“There’s no other movie, at least in my lame opinion, that compares to this one.”

 

Erin says the sentence so earnestly that Holtzmann is slightly taken aback. This film seems to mean something of deep magnitude to Erin. Holtzmann wants to ask, but doesn't know what to say exactly. She has that issue frequently and unfortunately.

 

There's a pregnant pause.

 

The TV screen is sapphire, casting a blue shadow over their faces, momentarily reminding Holtz of her girlfriend's eyes. They sure are magnificent. She sits up, wanting if nothing but a quick glance at her, and places herself next to Erin. She kisses her shoulder because she can. She lingers for a moment because she can. She doesn't know what to say, and is a believer in the phrase “better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and remove all doubt” so she doesn't say anything.

 

But then Holtzmann hears Erin make the distinct sound of choking back a cry, and her head snaps up, and she is met with a newly disheveled Erin. Definitely an Erin she has seen, but somehow, with _large tears_ , the state is different.

 

“What is it?”

 

Erin waves her hands, dismissively shaking her head, but Holtzmann is worried that at this point, something other than the film has upset Erin. Was it the cat joke?

 

“It's dumb, unimportant.”

 

“The word you're looking for is insignificant,” Holtz states, not waiting for a reply before continuing, “but really, what's the matter?”

 

Erin smiles through a slight frown, tears rolling over her cheeks. Holtzmann is adamant about keeping Erin’s smile on her face. There is a certain sense of vulnerability when one cries, freely, _openly_ in front of another. Holtzmann has never had that, has never had anyone who she felt as if she could cry in front of without consequence. She thinks that Erin might be that person, could be that person if the time arrives. And she wouldn't mind being that person for Erin, if she were to allow such an honor.

 

Unsure of where to go from here, with Erin being non responsive, she decides that lightly setting her hand on top of Erin’s thigh is a decent enough start. Hopefully the action will make her comfortable. Or at ease enough to speak, at least.

 

The action is to no avail. Instead of a verbal reply, Erin opts for closing her eyes and leaning her head against Holtz. _That can't be a bad sign_ , Holtzmann thinks, her arm flinging over Erin’s shoulders, causing them to shift slightly down the couch. But she's still visibly—not so much audibly— crying, and _dammit_ why did the both of them have to get stuck with no brains for expressing feelings?

 

And then Erin coughs, a hoarse, wheeze-y type of cough before saying:

 

“This movie makes me emotional, I’m sorry.”

 

“Oh,” Holtzmann drawls, slightly relieved, she lulls her head back, making contact with the couch. “You’re fricken cute. Also, a bit of enigma. But that's cool.”

 

“I’ve never been called an enigma before.”

 

Holtzmann smiles, a smirk growing. That's another thing. She isn't sure she has smiled as much as she has in the last year of knowing Erin than in the last 30 of her life. Erin is oddly funny. Charming, with her cautionary stature. Holtz lifts her loosely dangling hand from Erin's shoulder to place it on top of her head and lightly ruffle her hair. They stay positioned as such for a while, neither sure of the length of time spent lounging. Holtz is certain Erin has fallen asleep but then she tightens her grip around Holtz’ waist and presses her cheek against her collarbone. Holtz is at a level of content that she didn't know she (with the help of Erin, of course) could maintain.

 

“This is Abby’s favorite movie, too,” is murmured into her skin, and it tickles but it's _Erin_ so Holtz allows the feeling.

 

“We watched it when it first came out—gosh, which feels like months ago but nope, 20-something years.

 

I remember...I remember watching the...you know when he...and the hole...and I thought _that is incredibly smart?_ And I also thought that, _I would never think of such a smart_ —”

 

Erin interrupts herself, a penchant she regularly uses. She could be talking about the most marvelously interesting topic and she will stop talking for no apparent reason. Maybe this time her cut off is because she's tired? She sounds exhausted. But then Holtz feels Erin rub her nose against her skin, and she tries not to shiver. She is about to let her know that she's listening, that she wants her to keep speaking, when she surprisingly continues.

 

“I just remember thinking this man...this supposedly wrongly convicted man...spent time in prison for years...and I...I related to him. I wasn't literally in prison, but...the whole Ghost Girl business. You know. Abby told me she related to Red, the other guy, you remember him...not sure how but she told me that she did. And in the weirdest way possible, I related to Andy Dufresne.

 

Except I had no chance at redemption. I was Ghost Girl for so, so long and I never got my redemption. I wanted redemption, I didn't want to be Ghost Girl. It wasn't long after Abby and I saw the movie that she and I...well you know we went our separate ways. And I suppose the movie just...it's heartbreaking to me. In so many ways. Anyway. I guess the movie meant...means something to Abby too.” 

 

Holtz acknowledges her words by squeezing Erin’s torso and kissing her forehead. She isn't sure why Erin wanted to watch the movie if it has this effect on her. She'd like to think that Erin trusts her enough to be emotionally vulnerable around her. That is a nice thought.

 

This time, she's sure Erin is bound for sleep. They're quiet again. They're good at being quiet. It's safe, and easy, and familiar. But Holtz has a few thoughts asking to be spoken.

 

“You got your redemption, Erin.”

 

Erin hums.

 

Holtzmann exhales.

 

The curve of Erin’s smile is being etched into the dip of Holtz’ chest.

 

And she knows that Erin knows what she means.

 

They _did_ save the city, after all.


End file.
